The Elegance of You
by ZanNaz
Summary: CB and a series of one shots based on love, lust and New York.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: A series of very random one shots all to do with CB because really, who else is there worth writing about when it comes to GG? Exactly. Review me please?

**GENERAL SPECIFIC.**

When it rained, the city seemed to dull and blur under the heavy clouds of winter. Only a little as if a painter had splashed water droplets across his canvas.

"You know," Serena tapped her fingers against the wallpaper, "You should dye your hair B, you look like a virgin."

Blair crossed her arms and tossed her head back. "But I am one." She swallowed a shot of vodka, winced and collapsed onto the bedspread, resting her feet on the headboard.

Serena lay down beside her, grey plumes of smoke surrounding them as she took another drag of the menthol between her slender fingers.

There was a moment of silence, rain beating against the windowpanes.

"You don't have to broadcast it."

Serena was the woman every man wanted to love while Blair was just … _Blair_. She read books curled up on the sofa and quoted Audrey Hepburn and tried to remember how to waltz and forgot about everything in between her French lessons and warm cups of tea that only Dorota could make right.

Serena had the boyfriends, the men who sent her roses and left little notes of romance underneath her bedroom door. They were only sixteen but she had already … with a man almost twice her age. Lily was threatening to send her to boarding school as though that would catch the eye of the storm, calm it some but the twinkle in Serena's eye suggested otherwise.

"We should go to a party tonight," Serena said shrug of her shoulders.

Blair frowned. "What party?"

"Oh you know," Serena skirted around the edge of the question, "Nate's."

"Ugh. No."

Nathaniel Archibald was out of the question.

"Why do you hate him?" Serena sat up, shook out her hair.

Blair followed suit. She looked over at her best friend, frowned and crossed her legs at the ankles.

"I don't _hate_ him."

"You do," Serena whined, "You like _never_ hang out with us."

"I don't hang out with you because I'm busy."

Serena scoffed. "**Bullshit**."

The three of them had grown up together. They ran in the same circles, bobbed through identical courses, had the same wealth behind every step, every motivation. They were old money, older than even their parents knew and in each other there were years of hide-and-seek, summers of Disney movies on long flights.

"Last week, Mrs Wellon asked him how many states there were, do you know what his answer was?" She didn't wait for a response. "_Fifty _and then he laughed, smiled that stupid smile of his and slapped Chuck Bass on the shoulder as if he were Einstein."

Serena bit back a laugh, "He was probably kidding."

"He's an idiot and a brat."

"That's rich," Serena prompted, "coming from you. You're being stubborn."

"Are you calling me a hypocrite?" She flared.

Serena held up her hand, put her cigarette out on the windowsill and eyed Blair. "_Maybe_."

"Well I _never_ …"

They pushed their way through the crowd, pulling each other along as they went. The penthouse was crowded but it smelt familiar like Chanel and white linen. She tried not to turn her nose up or crinkle in disgust as they stepped over someone that had passed out playing a game of beer pong.

Nate and Chuck were sitting on bar stools, hands protectively cupping large tumblers of vodka. They were surveying every woman that passed with a quick nod, as though each girl was a fish ripe for the catch.

"Hey buddy!" Serena glowed, hugging him.

"You made it!" Nate yelled, his voice even still faint over the crowd.

Serena nodded, smiling. "Yeah, we did."

"Get the hell away from me Bass," Blair sneered.

She had a headache from the music, it vibrated through her and she couldn't stand another moment of being in that awkward conversation with bubbly and airhead drooling over one another like pieces of meat. She had managed to claw her way through the mass and onto the balcony of the Archibald townhouse, to breathe a little and find some calm in all the chaos.

The drink she'd swiped from Serena was doing little to combat the cold night. She could almost catch her breath in the palm of her hands, hold it up to the dim street lights.

He closed the balcony door, stepped away from the shadows.

"I don't bite Waldorf," His voice low and even, "Unless of course, you're into that."

She rolled her eyes. "_Oh please_, don't flatter yourself."

"Said the virgin queen," He smirked.

She bit her lip, turned away.

Chuck Bass was all tailored suits and carefully disheveled chestnut hair. She eyed his scarf, the same one he wore every single day during winter. He reminded her of a plastic toy, cheap and colorful.

She could hear the ice clink as he walked. He was an alcoholic and a womanizer, the two things that landed him in the midst of just about every gossip girl blast. He was bad news, stamped, taped up and packaged with the sharp cheekbones of European descent.

Quiet passed between them like broken glass. She could feel the warmth of his chest, the maroon vest that was so close she could shift slightly and touch it with her knuckle. She looked into his eyes, saw the darkness churn and stepped away.

"Such animosity, whatever did I do to deserve it?" He blinked.

"I'm not going to sleep with you," She warned.

"Is everything always about sex with you?" He chuckled, sipped at his drink.

She narrowed her eyes, fluffed her hair. "_Funny._"

"Relax," He balanced his drink on the railing. "I merely wanted to escape Trixie, you being out here is just a perk."

She raised an eyebrow. "Trixie?"

"A dancer at my father's club," He cleared his throat. "It was a one time deal."

"Isn't it always?" She prompted.

His eyes fell to the ground. "You've got me all figured Freud." He downed the rest of his drink in one swift gulp.

"You don't exactly make it hard."

"I don't intend to."

She could feel his eyes on her body, burning holes through her reserve.

And then his hands were on her lower back, holding her in place as though she could slip through his grasp and they were kissing.

She was sliding down a hill, not even bothering to hold on to anything but the sleeves of his jacket as his hands roamed through her hair, down her thighs and breasts. She couldn't even think, didn't want to.

When it was over, they broke apart like puzzle pieces, confused by their own actions.

She gingerly stepped back, heard the house band start another set.

"I didn't ... that wasn't ... I'm drunk," She stammered.

He bent his head towards her, still.

"I should go," She turned on her heel and dashed inside, slamming the door shut behind her. Outside, Chuck finished off her vodka and relished the taste on his lips, the virgin queen beneath the tips of his fingers, a fleeting desire that left with her departure but why did he quiver with the thought?


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you to: **3words8letterssayitandimyours****, plinnng** and **TriGemini** for your kind words. This is for you guys. Review me please? C'mon, I don't bite. It helps me get these written faster!

**FOUNDATIONS.**

To age eloquently was a quick and solid lash of time that spread itself thin.

Blair had once vowed never to undergo any surgery. She had seen the after effects in just about every woman she'd known. The botox that left Lily practically expressionless, a woman whose face conveyed just as much sadness looking at the Mona Lisa as it did when she was hailing a cab or eating dinner at Le Remont. She had never wanted to be like that.

Now, as she stood in front of the vanity, carefully scrubbing off the mask of foundation and eyeliner that held her together, she stole a long glance in the mirror and tried not to frown. Any way that she pulled her cheeks or puckered her lips, she still looked all of thirty, maybe a little less if you were standing farther away with less critical means.

Her crows feet were deeper, the laugh lines a little bit longer than they had been summers' past. But of course everything changed. Her hair was lighter and longer, her demeanor like steel, she wasn't a fragile piece of glass, ready to break with the least bit of a push any longer. These things she celebrated, the maturity that held her hands and kept her on her toes.

But she was starting to see Eleanor in her reflection, bit by bit and the pit of fear in her stomach chewed her up. She relented with a sigh, stood up and padded into the kitchen, searching the cabinet for the Pinot Girgio that Chuck had brought back from Italy a few weeks prior. She popped the cork, poured a healthy glassful and pursued her beauty regimen once more.

The day had been long, struck into pieces of responsibility that she held on her shoulders, the weight of a company all her own. Sometimes she imagined it was like sorting mail, deciding which things were better left to the writer than to the system but it left her exhausted, with an ache in her shoulders that she couldn't always shake.

She filled the tub, got in and leaned against the side, sipping at her wine with abandon. Little by little, the tepid water relaxed her muscles until she felt calm closer than it had been in weeks. She yawned, held up her hand and stared at the rings under the scrutiny of the bathroom track lights. The diamonds on her engagement finger were simple, traditional princess cut complimented by the unexpected ruby, two smaller diamonds, round and sparkling on either side.

He had proposed just after college graduation, the velvet box heavy in his suit pocket. She had worn Stella McCartney as they ascended the stairs to their bedroom and she had been all but ready to peel off her clothes and climb into bed, say farewell to another day.

When she reached the landing however, the lights were dim and she could barely see the steps in front of her. It was then that she turned around to ask Chuck if he could find the lightswitch but her gaze fell until she found him, knee lowered a few steps below her.

She had clasped her hand over her mouth in surprise. They had agreed that this, _whatever it was_, was better the simpler it could remain. He had loudly argued that idea, beating it upon them like a bouquet of flowers, all spectacle and pomp but there he was doing _exactly _the opposite of what he had once promised.

"What are you doing?" She had asked, her heat jumping a few beats.

"I love you," He drew the words out, let them linger.

"I love you too," She agreed, "But I don't think the stairwell is the most appropriate place to pray Chuck."

He chuckled nervously, fished her hand out of her jacket pocket, held it between his fingers like gold.

"I want to spend the rest of my life with you," He swallowed. "I want to spend every single day waking up to you, even if it means that sometimes you won't talk to me until you've had your morning coffee. I've decided that I'd rather life with you then spend my whole life wishing I had. I'm sick of running away from this, of settling for you in my bed only temporarily like you might slip out in the morning. I figure this," He had paused momentarily, pulled the little box from it's sitting place, "Might cement my chances."

"You want to marry me because you don't want me to _leave you_?" She'd asked.

He rolled his eyes, tried to keep his balance. "I'm _asking_ you to marry me because there has never been anyone else, there never will be anyone else."

She had drawn him up slowly by the lapels of his jacket, the box between them like a statement. "Ask me then ..." She whispered into his ear.

He had looked at her as though he were savoring the way the light hit her face, the thickness of her lips, her smooth skin.

He inhaled. "Blair Cornelia Waldorf, will you do me the honor of becoming my wife?"

"Yes," Her lips tickled his chin, "I will."

She could hardly contain the excitement in her words as he picked her up, spun her around and set her back down again. Then, with the utmost care, he had slipped the ruby on her finger and kissed each knuckle on her hand.

It had been perfect, everything that they were together boiled down and left to itself.

She extended her leg, pressed it flat against the tile and smiled to herself at the memory. She leaned back and closed her eyes against the light, against the idea that it really had been a decade since the princess had married her prince.

"Are you going to get out any time soon? You're beginning to look like a prune."

She fluttered, opened her eyes. How long had it been? Chuck was sitting on the toilet cover, his eyes roaming over her naked body. He was in his suit and tie, hair combed back and parted to the side.

"Maybe," She teased. "I happen to quite like prunes, don't you?"

He tilted his head. "I love them, on occasion."

She pouted, stuck her bottom lip out. "On occasion? I'm a luxury to behold only when I'm perfect?"

He shook his head at her childishness. "Stop it. You're always perfect."

She extended her hand, placed it on his knee. "How was work?" He looked tired around the edges, a little raw. The firm had been trying to snag a new piece of land that had recently opened up but the owners had been less pleased to find themselves under the siege of Bass, his black SUV's and formal words.

The heritage building, if he could secure it, would do wonders to uphold his name in the industry. It was the perfect place-mat to every dinner in the city.

"Good. We're almost through the first quarter of negotiation, they really know how to work their corner though."

She watched his expressions. Chuck Bass was still every bit the seventeen year old he had once been, his skin youthful and vibrant, the same murky curiosity lingering beneath his eyes.

"You'll get it darling, it's not every day that someone opens their door to find you there. I'm sure they know that."

He ran a hand through his hair at the thought. "I'll make them if they don't."

He smirked playfully and stood up, still holding her hand as he slipped off his shoes and socks, peeled off his jacket. Chuck stood over her a long moment of quiet before getting into the tub without a second glance, capturing her in his arms.

"What are you doing?" She threw her head back and laughed as the water soaked through his clothes.

He nuzzled her, "Loving my wife."

They were laying bed when she raised an eyebrow, slung her arm around his bare chest, her hair still damp and lanky.

"Am I old?" She asked.

"You're barely thirty," He reminded her, his fingers tracing circles across her soft stomach.

"I'm not as young as I used to be," She said plainly.

"Nobody ever is." He sat up, rested against the headboard.

She grumbled. "Will you still love my wrinkles?"

"I'll love you always," He closed his mouth over the words, like they were a secret.

"I feel ancient sometimes."

"What do you mean?" Chuck lifted his head, stopped puckering kisses down her throat.

"I don't know," She settled into his embrace. "Like I should feel more adult but I've never really known what that's supposed to be like."

"_This_ is what it's supposed to be like," He continued his exploration, "This is_ everything_."

She brushed her hands through his hair. "I can't believe it's been ten years," She whispered.

"Me neither," He said.

"_Chuck and Blair, Blair and Chuck_."

"I was always crazy about you," He admitted.

"Not nearly as infuriated as I was by you," She teased.

"Even more," He pressed, "You were just so _damn _persistent."

She squirmed under his gaze. "I knew what I wanted."

"Do you still want me?" He questioned, her hand over his heart.

"Every bit," She answered, not a beat passing before her reply.

"I'm glad to hear that Mrs. Bass," He tickled her cheek with his stubble.

They had been through everything together. She couldn't imagine not having him there, the warmth of his love over her like a blanket. He was everything.

This was everything between them as his breath trailed down.


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: Thanks for all the great reviews guys (: Here's another chapter of this thing. Please leave some feedback if you could, let me know that you like it. PS. All _italics_ are _flashbacks._

**WAITING FOR YOU.**

It was a beautiful day, the way the sunlight hit the tips of the buildings, the sweet sound of silence and of her own breathing as she stood at the kitchen counter. It was almost December and the wind carried a chill that ran in circles on flesh, but Blair was content. She was sticking a bouquet of roses into a vase, arranging and re-arranging them once she'd had a good look at the positioning of the petals.

_"I love you," She'd breathed, it was a hairsbreadth away from falling apart._

_He had scooped her into his arms, pushed the hair from her face and pulled her chin upwards before dropping his hand, loosing her gaze._

_He'd kissed a trail down her neck, rested his cheek on her shoulder. "I love you more."_

_Of all the actions, so few could hold what his touch provided her. It was poetry written on pale flesh, whispers of intimacy like bells in fog._

"Are you ready?" Chuck asked. He stood in the doorway, leaning against the wall.

She smiled, sighed inwardly at the effect his presence still had on her and felt every muscle in her body relax as she allowed him to kiss the nape of her neck, to guide her out of the kitchen, away from the roses he had brought home.

"Mmm," She whispered, nodding.

He took her hand in his, closed his fingers over her palm.

_"If you and I had never met, do you think you'd have married someone else?" She had been staring up at the clouds, watching for shapes. Pictures hidden in the blue paper of the sky._

_He had crinkled at the words a little, drawn his fingers through her long auburn hair. She curled further into his chest, spread her fingers apart on his stomach._

_"No," He said it so simply, "I don't."_

_"Yeah?" She propped herself up on one elbow, felt the cool grass tickle her arm. _

_He nodded, mostly to himself. "Is that so hard to believe?"_

_Her mouth had twitched. "No, I suppose it isn't," She decided. Chuck Bass, the man she had never imagined he could be._

_"I've never wanted anyone the way I want you," He explained._

_"I know," She replied._

_ They needn't explain themselves to one another, translate what didn't need to be said into words that could barely hold what they felt for one another. It was water spilling out of a jar, overflowing._

_"I know you would have," He said. _

_She blinked, trying to remember a time before Chuck was like asking her to speak another language. She could make out a few simple phrases but everything beyond that was broken, lost on her. _

_"Nate," She answered after a time. "God, I can barely remember what that was like."_

_"You seemed in love," He reminded her._

_"I was in love with love," She raised an eyebrow, "There's a big difference."_

_She ran her hand across his mouth, parting his lips with her finger. "Besides, it was kind of intimidating to meet you the way that I did and know you how I knew you. After everything between us, I thought you were never going to speak to me again." _

_He smirked. "Because we fucked in the back of my limo?"_

_She smacked him lightly, serious. "Shut up and no. I lost all sense of self when we collided."_

_"You didn't loose all sense," He parried. "After all, you had sense enough to let me touch you."_

_"Look where it's led me," She joked. What she had thought was the biggest mistake of her romantic career had actually been a risk worth taking, she knew it inside of herself almost as well as she knew her multiplication tables or how to think. He was like exhaling._

_They fell into a silence, one that lapped over itself and spread thin as the sun began to set._

_"I guess you never would have settled down," She answered her own question, "If we hadn't met?"_

_He tossed his leg over hers, brushed at her cheek like it was glass. Said nothing._

_"If I never would have met you," He treaded, "I wouldn't be who I am."_

_"Who is that exactly?" She asked._

_"A man in love with a woman who was only ever after his own soul."_

_"Do I have it still?" _

_His eyes twinkled and then he kissed her, soft and slow. They broke apart, pressed their foreheads together, shared touches delicate as lace._

_"In a jar under the bed," He whispered, "Last time I heard."_

"Good day for a wedding," Cyrus chuckled.

"To think," Eleanor added, "On a day in November, when we're so very close to snow."

Chuck nodded, agreeing silently. His eyes darted from Blair's parents to the pews as friends and family began to trickle in.

Cyrus slapped him on the back. "Nervous ol' boy?"

He cleared his throat. "Not at all."

Eleanor smiled politely and went to join Lily.

"Don't be," Cyrus affirmed. "Think of it as a little nip and tuck, over before you know it."

**No**. He was not going to think of it like that.

"Thanks," He muttered, "But I need to get dressed and you know, everything."

"Right right, good on you." And with that, Chuck was running down the aisle, towards the wedding party.

_"If we ever have kids," Blair put down her magazine, a look of determination on her face. _

_"What?" He had swallowed a lump in his throat. If they ever what? _

_"I said, if we ever have kids, don't let me dress them similarly or for that matter, give them rhyming names. Okay? It's kind of really important."_

_She leaned forward, resting her elbow on his shoulder. _

_"We're trying for kids?" His mind was flooded with images of screaming babies, sanguine faces and chubby arms._

_She played with his hair. "Relax Chuck, I'm not pregnant."_

_He couldn't help but sigh with relief._

_"Then what ..."_

_"Jesus, you're blowing a tiny little comment into something it isn't at all!"_

_She jumped to her feet, all anger and flawed gestures. "If you don't want to have babies with me, then let me know right now because I want kids. I want your kids but right now you look like your on the verge of this huge anxiety attack and that's not a good sign."_

_"I'm fine," He had answered. "And I do want to have kids with you," He reasoned, sliding his arms around her waist. "Just not tomorrow but someday."_

_"Don't do that," She eyed him._

_He blinked. "What am I doing?"_

_"Trying to get me to forget it."_

_"I didn't know there was anything to remember," He whispered. He was comforted by the idea of a child that looked like her, brunette curls, hazel eyes the same warm smile._

_It was then that he knew he was in the long haul, with this woman who looked like she wanted to rip him limb from limb for a silly little remark that had faded almost immediately from his vocabulary. He was in love enough to want that to be something more than it was, it was everything that existed in him._

She was stunning, sunlight and air and everything good that had ever happened to Chuck Bass and she was walking towards him, devotion in her eyes. Sparkling like gold. When she reached him and Harold released her, she stepped up and leaned towards him, her breath tickling his ear.

"Forever?" She said.

He nodded. "Ready love?"

"As I'll ever be," She replied.

With that, he took her hand in his and they approached the priest. _Chuck and Blair._


End file.
